


The Collector

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), steter - Fandom
Genre: A bit AU, Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Come Swallowing, Copious cumming, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Peter Hale is a Dick, Porn little or no Plot, Smut, Stiles is a hunter, stiles is badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Stiles Stilinski is a hunter, though he's mated to the Alpha werewolf Derek Hale.Derek Hale has been poisoned and Stiles is forced to go to "The Collector" for the antidote."The Collector" is Peter Hale, Stiles' sworn enemy. Too bad monetary compensation is not the only thing the handsome older man wants in exchange for the cure. He's had his eye on the boy for some time now.





	The Collector

**Author's Note:**

> Tags for non-con oral sex and insulting language. If these are triggers please don't read further.

Stiles stood at the grimy door, hand hovering in the air in a fist. He didn’t want to knock, didn’t want to touch the damn thing. Not only was it filthy, he knew what would be waiting for him on the other side. It was costing him so much to be here, at THIS particular door. That sick fuck inside had something he needed. He couldn’t do without it. He wouldn't be able to save Derek without the cure.  
  
Stiles had no choice. This was the mantra he kept repeating to himself. “I have to save Derek. This is the only way.” His heart raced.   
Stiles steadied his breathing, pushed down his wrath, and rapped on the door twice. The surface was slimy, so much so that he wiped his hand on the dark leather of his tight, black pants.

He heard shuffling from inside. It was taking forever for the asshole to make it to the door. The peep slide opened with a creak.

“Oh, it’s you,” the man affirmed. A grin of perfectly straight white teeth greeted him. Stiles stared at his gorgeous mouth in disgust. His hate for Peter Hale would never allow him to see the man objectively. Because objectively, the guy was hot. Really, really hot. His body rivaled that of any male model even though he was twice the age.

“My favorite hunter.” Peter spat. “But you’re late. That’s not good.” The wolf made a clucking noise with his tongue. His skin shone with sweat, it was sweltering in the underground location.  
A shudder passed through the young man. Would he be able to go through with this?  
“Jesus.” Stiles was getting irritated. “Just open the fucking door, Peter. I don’t have time to fuck around. That’s if you aren’t too tired from wreaking havoc on Beacon Hills.”  
“Now now, there’s no reason to be mean, Stiles. Especially when you need me…” His gaze dropped to Stiles’ crotch, and he slowly licked his lips.  
Stiles rolled his eyes.  
“Don’t remind me, you piece of shit. Are you going to let me in or not? Or maybe I should call Jonathan?" He impatiently tapped his foot. He knew he couldn't call Jon. Jon wasn’t in possession of what he required. Unfortunately, only this nasty excuse for a werewolf had what Stiles so desperately necessitated. And Peter knew it.  
“Step inside my castle…” Peter uttered as he dragged the door open. His cologne wafted over to Stiles as he passed him to enter the apartment. It was incredibly erotic, something visceral. A whimper got stuck somewhere in Stiles’ windpipe and he hated himself for it.  
The boy needed to make this quick. Tick tock. 

As Peter was about to bolt the door, Stiles turned and put a hand on his hip. The hip to which his enormous, shiny knife was strapped. “Lock that door and I’ll cut your offensively gorgeous throat.”   
The man raised both his muscular arms and smiled. “Fine, Stiles. Fine. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

Stiles watched him saunter over to his desk, his tight ass perfectly hugged by his pants. They looked painted on, in fact. The wolf lumbered into his chair and breathed a sigh as he sat back. He crossed his enormous arms behind his head.  
  
“How has no one managed to kill you yet is beyond me.” Stiles’ disdain for him couldn’t be more transparent. “God knows Derek tried.”  
Stiles was doing his best to be mean. He didn’t want to be attracted to Peter. Stiles was supposed to hate Peter Hale. He had always hated Peter Hale. But there he sat in a sweat-soaked v-neck, clinging to every muscle on his perfect body.  
  
The wolf shifted uncomfortably in the armchair. “Not everyone despises me like you do, Stiles. Some people find me quite charming.”  
The brunette shuddered in response.  _Jesus, I hate you._  
“Listen,  _Peter,_  as lovely as it is to chat with you in this splendid location, I’m on a schedule. How much do you want for it? I don’t have time to waste. Your nephew’s life is on the line, you know.”  
  
Peter brought his skinny finger to his pink lips and hummed. “Stiles, Stiles. I’m sorry for Derek, but he knew the risks. Also, this antidote is very rare. I would say… priceless. So the question isn’t how much is it worth, but perhaps, how much is your mate's life worth _to you?_ How far will you go to save him?” The wolf smirked. 

Stiles’ patience was wearing thin. And Derek was running out of time. He sighed and reached into his shoulder bag, pulling out a wad of bills. “Here’s 50 thousand, which I know is MORE than enough. Don’t fuck with me, Hale.”  
The man’s pale azure eyes were drawn to the money now waving in the brunette’s hand.

“Fine. 50 it is.”

Stiles smiled. “Awesome. Glad this could be simple. Give it to me and I’ll be on my way. Derek needs me.”

Peter’s brow furrowed and he let out a “Tsk. Tsk."  
"What?"  
Peter smacked his lips. "My dear Stiles, I have another condition before I can release this to you.” His gaze rested on Stiles’ plump, sexy mouth and he passed his tongue over his kiss-worthy pucker, slowly. Obnoxiously.   
A ball of steel started to form in the pit of Stiles’ stomach. He wasn’t going to like this.

“What. What do you want, Peter?” he inquired.   
The collector lifted himself a bit on the chair, like nervous people do when they can’t find a position.

“Stiles, I am going to require some attention from you. A blowjob, to be precise.”   
Stiles, mouth agape in shock, took a step back, walking into a standing light. His perfect, lithe body made a shadow on the floor.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”  He was so upset he tripped on his words. “What…are …. what… you….”

Peter smirked. “I am afraid this is non-negotiable.”  
Stiles trembled from anger, the fists at his side white from strain.  
“You aren’t kidding. Fuck.”  
Peter slowly shook his head. “No. Now, there are a couple of rules. You need to show me your cock while you do it. And you have to swallow.”  
  
Everything in Stiles screamed. He wanted nothing more than to kill the wolf, but knew he couldn’t. He didn’t know the location of the item and it would take much too long to rip apart his apartment. Derek's life was the most important thing. He'd die for him.  
“Fine.” Stiles couldn’t believe he was agreeing to this. The vomit started to crawl up his throat.  
“Come on. Let’s get this over with.” He was secretly praying Peter would come quickly.

“Come here,“ Peter motioned to the spot in front of his chair, “and take off your shirt, unbutton your jeans. Pull it out.”

Stiles was fuming, an earthquake within him. He knelt down in front of this evil creature and removed his shirt. He could perceive the beast’s repugnant smell. (Well, repugnant to Stiles only because he abhorred him. In reality, Peter Hale smelled amazing).  
“You are so horrific," he whispered.  
Next, Stiles unzipped his pants, pulling his underwear down enough to expose his long dick in the gap. Now that he had followed Peter’s directions, he could almost feel the burn of the wolf’s gaze over his body.   
The light brown circles of Stiles’ nipples reminded the wolf of delicious cookies.  
“You’re beautiful,” Peter murmured, eyes blown in lust. Peter’s gaze fell lower.  
The boy’s member was uncut, light brown skin pulled over the shaft, darker than the rest of his body. Peter wanted to taste him. So badly. His voice shook. “Ugh… superlative.” He made a move to reach for it.  
Stiles wanted to weep. He stayed the beast’s hand and placed the other on the hilt of his knife. “Try it and I’ll cut yours off. That’s MY condition.” Stiles demanded through gritted teeth.

Peter slowly retreated. “Okay. Okay. Just leave it out for me then. Now… to the fun.”

Nimble fingers slowly undid the zipper on his pants. The sound of “zzzipppppp” made the brunette shudder. His dark blue underwear revealed the outline of a large erection. This was happening. Stiles wanted to run away screaming. (But was also getting kind of hard?)

“YOU take them off. Pull them down to my ankles.”

“Fuck you.” Stiles replied. “Just pull it out yourself and I’m going to do the rest. I am not touching any more of you than I need to, so don’t push your luck.”

Peter sighed. His hand fumbled inside the waistband and pulled out his magnificent prick. It was large, light-colored, and THICK. Bitter acid filled the back of Stiles' throat.  
“If you have some disease, I am going to come back and fucking kill you.”  
“I’m clean,” Peter replied lustfully. “I’m a werewolf, remember? Now put your mouth on it.”

Without replying, Stiles shifted, one shaky hand on each of his knees. He leaned in. The crotch smelled like the rest of him (so yummy) but Stiles winced, anyway.  
With his left hand, he grabbed the base of Peter’s penis, it’s girth so impressive he couldn’t even get his hand all the way around it. He starting stroking, slowly at first. Gagging, he almost threw up right there. Stiles’ esophagus pulled in on itself and he hadn’t yet put his mouth on him.   
“Do it already…” Peter mumbled. "Make me believe it." 

Stiles felt dead inside. His tongue touched the tip of the dick, the taste of his pre-cum poisoning his taste buds. He emitted a “grugggg” as he slipped his length into his mouth, Stiles' lips stretched over the shaft. The wolf reached down, raking his fingers into Stiles’ chestnut hair.  
“Oh baby, yes.. “ he breathed.  
Peter pushed down, guiding his member further down the boy’s tight throat. Stiles hollowed his cheeks as he began to suck to the time of his fisting.

“Mmm…ugh…yes…. like that….Fuck…” The sounds of the wolf’s moans willed him into trying to finish him off as quickly as possible. (Even though Stiles’ dick was telling a different story. He was rock hard).  
Being the sex diva that Stiles was, he knew exactly how to pleasure a man and he was doing just that. Judging from Peter's laments, he was believing it. 

Peter shuffled forward, lunging further into him, his cock now bent into his throat. If someone could see from outside, they would perceive the outline of Peter's prick moving along Stiles’s throat. It might turn some people on. 

“Grrgh…awk” were all the sounds the brunette emitted. Hard to do much else when there’s a seven-inch wide cock in your gullet. His eyes began to tear, and he did his best to keep down the urge to retch all over him.  
“Enmmmm, mmmm, faster Stiles. So good. Faster.” Peter’s body shook as he groaned. Stiles was inhaling his pubes, face buried in him.

Stiles continued in his pursuit of making him cum as soon as possible, but Peter was resisting. He licked under the length, the vein pulsating on his tongue. The other hand pumped quickly as he cupped his balls, flicking into the slit. Stiles was pulling out all the stops.  
“Oh shit, Stiles…shit… “ Peter bucked back with his hips, tensing.  
“Maybe he’s finally going to cum,” he thought. He sped up his jerking, head bobbing on his crotch in a mad pace.

“Yes, urgh, yes….I’m coming….” Peter screamed. "Suck harder!"  
Stiles gave one last squeeze and opened up his airway. A first wave of semen hit, but literally a wave. It was sweet and splashed his tonsils like a typhoon. He swallowed once, but it kept coming.  
“Glug” …as he tried to keep up. Ropes of it, hot and thick and creamy, kept pouring out of Peter. Another spurt, then another.

Peter threw his head back, “Oh fuck, STILES BABY….fuck, take it all you little whore… ” 

Stiles dug his nails into his thighs as more sperm kept coming. Tense and release. Tense and release. He barely had time to breathe, in fact even his nostrils felt as if they were lining with his cum.  
“Gak….gak….” as he tried to swallow it all. Some came back up, and down he willed it.   
  
Another briny squirt came. Stiles began to feel that uncomfortable sensation of his stomach distending, like when you drink too much water at once.  
“Just a little more, Stiles. Take it baby. Take it. Oh Jesus I can feel it building!” Peter panted.  
“How much is he fucking coming?!” he thought desperately. The last serving finally flowed as Peter broke beneath him.  
“Slurp,” Stiles tried to swallow the tail end of the spunk and his accumulated saliva.

Finally, mercifully, it stopped. He released the monster with a “pop” and fell back, spent.  
“Kaaak” as he coughed. Stiles' lips looked like they had been stung by bees, red and moist and swollen. Saliva and cum ran down his chin and onto his heaving chest. There was a slight swell to his upper stomach from all he had drunk of him.  
Peter thought he never looked sexier. He took in the sight of the brunette. Stiles’ sex was far from relaxed. It stood at attention, glistening in pre-cum.

“What the fuck was that, you sicko?!” Stiles strained to speak. Panting, he wiped himself on the back of his hand. He re-dressed as Peter grinned, sweaty and satisfied with himself.

“What, exactly? Oh, the cum. I have a special gift. I come in liters. I left it as a surprise. You’re welcome.”

Stiles fought back the spasms. “Ggghu, ghhu…” Jesus, throwing up all his cum would be worse than having had to drink it. He took a deep breath.

“Your vile.” He spat.  
Stiles bent his erect cock and hissed, trying to close the fly on his pants.  
“Want me to reciprocate? I can take care of that for you,” Peter offered. "Looks like you didn't mind."   
Stiles guffawed. “Not even if you were the last man alive. And this is just a biological reaction, douchebag."   
  
Clothed once more, the boy stood menacingly addressing the wolf. “Put your dick away, Peter, and give me the antidote.”

Peter pointed to a cabinet behind Stiles. “It’s in there. Red vial. Help yourself. You won’t mind if I don’t show you out? I’m a bit tired.” 

“Don’t bother.”

Stiles hustled over to the greasy cabinet and pulled open the doors. It was there, just as he hoped.  
He reached in and picked it up gently. This would save Derek. He did it.   
Stiles admired it for a moment before hiding it safely in his bag.  
  
The brunette turned around, finding Peter drifting off, feet crossed on his desk.   
It would be so easy to kill him, he pondered, and he did despise him so. What haunted him was the knowledge that Peter Hale still might be useful in the future.

Shooting him one last hateful stare, Stiles let himself out. Moving a little faster than normal, the clock on Derek's life running out his only thought, he took the stairs of the darkened hallway two at a time, stepping  
out into the blinding daylight. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading what my depraved mind keeps coming up with!


End file.
